I Consider Myself Married
by DWforlife
Summary: Sherlock's in the hospital, John's panicking, Mycroft's being cryptic, and there's a mysterious man hanging around. Really it's just a typical day in the life of the Baker St boys.
1. Chapter 1

**So apparently that whole I'll never right romance thing is sort of out the window... Wrote this for a prompt found here: . ?thread=43493772#t43493772**

**I promise I haven't abandoned any of my stories, I just can't focus on them at the moment.**

**Anyways on to the story!**

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"So you have a boyfriend?"

"No."

That question, it really hadn't been John's attempt at flirting with Sherlock. Really. It hadn't! Why did no one ever just believe him? John had simply been trying to better acquaint himself with the man he'd potentially be living with. No ulterior motives whatsoever.

Yes alright, he obviously had seen the same appeal Molly saw in Sherlock's unique features. John did have eyes after all, and it wasn't like John had any q_ualms_ about dating men. He just preferred women. Simple as that.

Their round curves, and soft bodies, and dark curly hair that fingers could get tangled in, set a top cheekbones so sharp they could cut gla- no. No! He was not in- he didn't have those sort of feelings for Sherlock. They were mates. Mates don't fall for other mates. It's a rule look it up.

Besides, Sherlock was too much for John. All that boundless energy. The constant need for a distraction. His quick wit, and sharp tongue. It was so easy to get caught up in the whirlwind that was Sherlock Holmes, and John craved the adventure that came with it. But a relationship? An honest to God relationship? With emotions, and expectations? Even in his own head he knew it would never work.

And why the hell was he even thinking about this? Sherlock was married to his work! He'd said so himself. Even if the rule about mates didn't exist, John would never have had a chance with him. He just didn't feel things that way. Did he? John didn't know. God, why was he so wound up today? He'd only had four cups of tea in the past hour, it couldn't have been tha- oh no, the tea. Was Sherlock experimenting with the tea again? John was going to kill him. Sherlock had _promised_ to leave the tea alone after the incident with the wellies, and the giraffe. Come to think of it, where was Sherlock? John hadn't seen him all da- oh.

Look at that. Think of the devil and the... devil's brother will... call you.

"Finally run out of abandoned warehouses, Mycroft?"

"Humorous as always Dr. Watson. No I am simply calling because I thought you would want to be informed that my brother has managed to land himself in the hospital."

"No he hasn't."

"Well then if it isn't Sherlock, someone should tell him his doppelganger is in surgery."

"I'm his emergency contact, the hospital would've called me if anything had happened."

"Dr. Watson, you're... not his emergency contact."

"What? Of course I am. Who else would be? I'm the closest thing he has to family... er no offence."

_Long dramatic pause_.

"My God he never told you."

"Told me. Told me what?"

"John... I think it would be best if you went to the hospital."

"What for? Mycroft, what going-"

_-Click-_

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**They're going to be short chapters, just so you know. Anyways I'll update tomorrow, or possibly next week I haven't decided how sadistic I want to be with this story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**So I just realized that the link to the original prompt isn't working, and I didn't use it as the summary for my story, so you guys really will have no idea what's about to happen, and I'm really starting to get self-conscious about this story, and please don't hate me if you think it''s bad because it's going to take a crazy turn that you weren't expecting unless you somehow figured out how to get the link to work or are just really good at guessing. Gaah**!

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_"My God he really never told you. John... I think it would be best if you went to the hospital."_

_"What for? Mycroft, what going on?"_

* * *

"I'm sorry sir, but unless you're family, or an emergency contact I can't release-"

"Yes, yes I know. You can't release any information to me, but I am family. Just- just not by blood, or anything... legal. I live with him though, we're colleagues. I wash his pants for crying out loud! That on its own should warrant me some sort of right to know what the hell is going on. And it's Doctor, by the way, not sir."

"Well _Doctor_, as I said before, unless you are family, an emergency contact, or his doctor, I cannot give-"

"I _am_ his doctor!"

"Then I am sure Dr. Williams will gladly fill you in once the paperwork has been approved. Now will you please go wait in the waiting room before I call security."

Sod this. Sod all of this. John was going over their heads. He was going over _all_ their heads, and it doesn't matter what anyone has to say because he isn't listening, so there.

"Come on, come on. Pick up you bastard!"

"Ah John."

"Don't you John me, Mycroft Holmes! What bloody hell is going on? The hospital won't tell me because for whatever reason I'm not Sherlock's emergency contact. I deserve to know what's happening Mycroft, so tell me!"

"John, I"

"I just told you, don't John me! I thought after I moved in it was obvious I would take over being his emergency contact it just made sense! I mean we're practically... look will someone please just tell me what's going on? Please?"

"John if you'll just-"

"For God's sake what part of Don't. John. Me, do you not understand? Just please explain-"

"Dr. Watson _that is what I'm trying to do!_ Or at least it was. Clearly this is one conversation we should not have over the phone. I'm on my way to the hospital. I suggest you do as the nurse says; I believe she was serious about calling security."

John thinned his lips. Of course Mycroft had seen the altercation. He made his way inside a room designated for people waiting for loved ones in surgery. Like John expected the room wasn't overly busy. There was a young man of about thirty pacing in front of the vending machines while muttering nervously into his phone, an elderly was man comforting an elderly woman as two small children scribbled 'Get Better Soon Mummy.' on paper by their feet, and finally two blonde haired men closer to John's age were sitting in the corner. One was slumped dead asleep while the other more anxious looking man stared blankly ahead continuously twisting his wedding band around.

John dropped into a chair, and buried his face into his hands. Why hadn't Sherlock called him? He must not have suspected whatever his plan was would be dangerous; surely he'd have called John if he had thought otherwise. But... then again maybe he wouldn't have. The thing was John really had no idea. They'd been living together for barely even a year. What did John really know about Sherlock?

Other than he had a flair for the dramatics, and that John was completely head over- uh no. We are not going there inner monologue. We are so not even approaching there; there doesn't even exist. There will never exist, and everyone knows daydreaming about fantasy lands is only for children.

A harried looking nurse in surgical scrubs marched through the doors, pulling John out of his reverie and causing everyone else in the room to look up at her with hope in their eyes.

"Holmes. I'm looking for a Victor Holmes?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Just because I love you all so much I'm posting two chapters in one day, but don't get used to this treatment the next chapter won't be up till at least Monday. Unavoidable terribly sorry.**

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_"Holmes. I'm looking for a Victor Holmes?"_

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A tiny warning bell began to chime in the back of John's skull. It was fine. Everything was fine. Holmes wasn't an uncommon last name. There could be any number of people named Holmes in the hospital; everyone else in the room could be named Holmes for all John knew. The pacing man snapped his phone shut, and with two strides was at the nurse's side. She led him a few meters away from the larger group, and spoke to him in quiet tones. Almost against his will John found himself walking nearer to the pair under the pretence of getting a snack from the vending machine.

This man... this Victor wasn't terrible on the eyes John noted. He was tall; not as tall as Sherlock, but definitely taller than John. The man had immaculately combed light brown hair, and deep brown eyes hidden behind a pair of dark framed glasses. He was lean and well toned, with a Californian bronze tan. He was dressed casually in a pair of blue jeans and a red jumper clearly thrown on last minute. The warning bell got louder.

"...lock is doing..." Lock? She just said lock. It's alright it's still fine, lock could be anything. They're talking about hair. Of course that's what it meant. Lock as in hair. Perfect sense.

"... wound was deeper than..." Oh God, a wound? Sherlock was hurt. Sherlock was dying, and now John would never get the chance to tell him how he felt! This couldn't be happening, what sort of justice was there in the world if Sherlock died, and John lived? John needed Sherlock. John without Sherlock was like pizza without cheese, or a movie without popcorn. It was just wrong to have one without the other.

By now the warning bell had morphed into a large clanging cowbell, and John was feeling sick to his stomach. He was the one who cared for Sherlock, he was the one who had always been there for Sherlock, he was the one who loved Sherlock, where did this Victor character get off getting in between them?

"..few more hours." The nurse gave the man a gentle squeeze on the arm before exiting the room. John looked back at the line of crisp bags he had been thoroughly inspecting. He had just made the decision about actually purchasing a bag when someone grabbed a hold of him and threw John forcefully back against the wall.

Instinctively John pushed his weight forward offsetting his would-be attacker, giving him the chance to spin them around and pin the other man against the wall with his arms.

The face of Victor Holmes glared back at him. "Who the hell are you?"

"Who the hell am I? You're the one grabbing people!"

"I _saw_ you eavesdropping on the nurse, and I. You're one of them aren't you? One of the gang members." Victor's attempted to push John's arm away, but he held firm.

"What are you talking about? What gang members?"

"The ones who attacked my idiot husband! Here to finish off the job? You're going to have to bloody well go through me first!" This would have been much more powerful, if John hadn't already proven he could easily get the upper hand on the man.

"Hus- there's been some sort of misunderstanding."

The blonde man previously sleeping was beginning to stand. "I'm going to find a nurse."

"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary Mr. Brown." Mycroft Holmes stood in the doorway, leaning casually against his ever present umbrella. He peered at the two squabbling men with something akin to amusement. "Victor. John, if you'll follow me."

Mycroft turned leaving a befuddled Mr. Brown asking how he knew his name, behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

**I lied.**

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_"Oh I don't think that will be necessary Mr. Brown." Mycroft Holmes stood in the doorway, leaning casually against his ever present umbrella. "Victor. John, if you'll follow me." _

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Mycroft led them down the hall to any empty room. The moment the door closed John rounded on the elder Holmes. "What is going on here Mycroft? No. You know what? I don't care; just will someone please tell me what happened to Sherlock?"

Before answering Mycroft made himself comfortable in one of the two chairs available in the room. "Introductions first I believe. Victor Holmes this is the infamous Dr. John Watson you've heard so much about. John this is-"

"Oh. _Oooh_ God. You're the flatmate?" The man covered his face in embarrassment sitting down into the other chair. Not wanting to be the odd man out John plunked himself down on to the bed beside them.

"Quite. Now about Sherlock; from what the cameras- ahem, around town picked up, as well as what witnesses confirmed, it would appear that early this morning Sherlock was called in by Detective Inspector Lestrade for help on a case. While he was inspecting the crime scene Sherlock found evidence that, quote, 'any imbecilic four year old can see it points straight to the whereabouts of the criminals'. Unquote. My dear brother being who he is, decided against waiting for the police and went after the gang himself. One spectacular foot chase later his opponent got the upper hand, and Sherlock had a knife in his abdomen. Oh before you ask John, he did call up to you asking you to meet him at the yard before he left. You were of course still asleep at the time."

"Wait... there aren't cameras in my bedroom are there?"

Mycroft gave him a thin-lipped smile. "This is the part where it gets... delicate. John, it appears my brother neglected to mention a rather vital piece of information about himself. You see Sherlock has been in a committed civil partnership for the past three and a half years to Victor Holmes, nee Trevor. They are by every right... married to one another."

_Silence._

_Even more silence._

"Oh come on."_ Further continuation of the silence._ "Sherlock's not... not _married_! He would've- well actually he is, he's married to his work, he told me that practically the day we met!"

Victor snorted. "He really said that?" A softer expression passed over his face. "That was sort of a private joke. When we first met, I was just starting out in the world of politics. A really rather dangerous criminal organizations decided I must've been worth something. Lucky for myself, so did the British government. He took my kidnapping case as a favour to Mycroft."  
"...You_ were_ his work."  
"I was his work. He, at the very last minute swooped in Batman style to save my life."  
"And so began the unusual courtship of Victor Trevor, and Sherlock Holmes."  
Victor grinned at Mycroft's addition, but John continued to frown. "Why am I- if he's married to you, why did Sherlock need a flatmate? I mean there's not even a damn photo of you anywhere in the house!"

Victor was silent for a moment. "The thing about Sherlock is, he's... not good... on his own. He needs someone. About a year after we exchanged vows, I got promoted. The position, it involves a lot of traveling. A whole lot of traveling. My career would've been over if I didn't accept it. If I had my way Sher would have come with me, but... but he wouldn't have been happy with a life on the road like that. "

"But-"

"You've seen Sherlock's work, yeah? The sort of people it attracts? Well the ones in my life aren't much better. We had a lot of close calls. And because of our sex... er.. um... because we were both men, the danger was that much worse. It made it difficult for us to trust many people with the knowledge of... us."

Victor's words hurt John more than he dared admit. "I've been living in close proximities with the man for what seven months now? I've never even heard your name before."

"Might I point out that this is Sherlock Holmes we're dealing with. There's every chance he told you in minute detail about his marriage to Victor, John. You simply... may not have been home at the time."

"That's... that's actually really very plausible isn't it?"

"Yes. It is. God. I'm going to kill him. I'm really really going to kill him. He shouldn't have gone off on his own like that. Having you for a colleague was supposed to prevent this sort of thing!"

The smallest of smiles tugged John's mouth. "You really do love him don't you?"

"Wouldn't have married the git if I didn't."

At that moment a nurse appeared at the door. "Oh Mr. Holmes there you are. Sherlock's just come out of surgery, he'll be waking up in a few minutes if you want to go see him."

All three men began to rise from their perches. The nurse raised his hand. "I'm very sorry sirs, but only two visitors are permitted at this time."

Mycroft grabbed his umbrella. "Just as well. My business here this evening is concluded. Victor, always a pleasure. John, I'll be seeing you soon."

The nurse led them along to a private room where Sherlock was clearly just beginning to stir.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock's bleary eyes settled on the two men. He let out a pleased hum. "Victor."

"I can't leave you alone for five minutes can I?"

"No that was very stupid of you. Don't ever do it again."

"I won't I promise." Victor pulled the chair up as close as he could to Sherlock, placing a tender kiss on his forehead. "What am I going to do with you?"

A wicked little smirk played at the corners of Sherlock's lips. His husband placed a finger on his mouth before he had a chance to reply. "Ah no. That thought was much too indecent to be said aloud."

"Spoilsport."

Neither man had yet to break eye contact with the other. John felt like he was intruding on a reunion that could very well be labeled as intimate. He watched them for a moment longer trying desperately to ignore the want, the need to be the one on the receiving end of those loving tender looks Sherlock gave to Victor.

Swallowing back his feelings John left the room.

"They're very happy John."

"I know."

Mycroft stepped from the shadows he had been lurking in. "Their relationship may not be ideal, but they've made it work."

"I know."

"I can only imagine what harm it would do to Sherlock if _anyone_ was to try and get between them."

John turned to stare Mycroft straight in the eye. "I know." With that John took his leave. No matter what John feelings for the detective were, John knew he would never try anything now that he understood the truth. Victor was the one Sherlock had chosen. John was just the friend.

It was better this way.

Really.

It was.

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**God I'm so sorry I wasted your time. That was really terrible wasn't it? I have no idea why I wrote this it's too different from my usual goof troop writing! I should just take this down. Okay, I'm done. So sorry. *runs and hides under rock in shame***


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